So far, the short history of personal computing has been the history of interfaces. How does the end user interact with the tool, service, or product, and how well can it facilitate their experience?
From the primitive era of physical punch cards to the textual command line and finally graphical window-icon systems, user interfaces have steadily improved alongside computing power. This allows users to more easily gain mastery of the services the computer makes possible.
SalvoCore fundamentally believes it this crucial element, the computer interface, that is the current bottleneck in the software industry. Although hardware capabilities are still expanding exponentially, the code running on top of that hardware seems unchanged from ten, even twenty years ago. The programs themselves are huge and unwieldly, basic processes are slow, crashes are common, and the number of lines required to execute any action has ballooned, on the order of thirty million by some famous estimates.
Fresh innovations like quantum computing have further emphasized the ugly truth of the hardware-software gap, to the point that we appear to reach a crisis. What if consumers cannot adapt fast enough to the explosion of computing methods that will be possible in the coming quantum era? The power of new technologies would be forever inaccessible by ordinary people simply because they lack the proper interface. Nobody, not even dedicated software developers, has the time to learn a new machine learning language every time someone stumbles across a new development in quantum coding.
As the beloved icon Steve Jobs once remarked, the computer is a "bicycle for the mind." I would add this caveat: a bicycle is useless until you learn how to pedal. SalvoCore wants even a baby to be able to ride a bicycle without any help or guidance.
Um, I'm sorry if I offend, that didn't quite come out as I intended. But the point is that we don't want our customers to be limited from excluded from the new computing techniques of the quantum era. The common knowledge says that users either get stuck using the same types of programs they have for decades, or they become dependent on someone else to write the program for them. With our revolution in user interfaces, we can offer them a third choice and give them their freedom back.
This is why we told SalvoCore development team to dream big. We didn't just want a better user interface, we wanted a way to break down the barrier between the user and the computer entirely.
Now, thanks to years of research and tireless effort on the part of our scientists, we can proudly present our solution: general artificial intelligence for manipulation of data resources, powered by the quantum computing architecture at MARIE
Our vision is simple. Making something happen with a computer should be as easy giving instructions to another person. That's why our design philosophy had two main pillars, natural user interaction, and universal interface with arbitrary software tasks.
Yes, you heard that right. Quantum computing is superior to the traditional computing most of our daily applications are based on, by gross orders of magnitude. Given the right interface, we found that a quantum computer could disassemble a conventional software program and obtain complete control without the base system even being affected.
Consider a human adjusting a car for repairs, slowly taking it apart and testing each component one at a time. Now, imagine an artificial intelligence taking a computerized model of that same car, immediately identifying the defects, and applying the necessary changes instantaneously, while the car is in motion.
This is how far removed quantum computing is from our ordinary digital experience. From a quantum perspective, our most complex, intensive simulation programs and our most immersive virtual environments are like kids' crayon drawings.
It's like magic. If the quantum artificial intelligence has an objective, it can reach its hand in and do basically whatever it wants.
That brings us to the second design pillar and the other end of the equation, user communication with the quantum artificial general intelligence…question in the back?
Haha, yes, I suppose "general intelligence" is a bit of a buzzword in the quantum dev community. I've personally read many of the articles you just mentioned about the "impossibility" of a generalizable AI, and the research team was well aware of those types of limitations.
Later in the presentation, I'll be sharing exactly what kinds of out of the box thinking got us around those challenges. But our AI solution is much more than another "enhanced command line," as you put it. For one, it has much more…personality.
[1]
Socialization
It was Friday afternoon after lunch. My single morning class was over, and I was standing in the shadow of the school's Primary Undergraduate Administrative Building, wondering if I should leave the top button of my shirt closed or open.
The PUAB, or simply the "pub," as the student body liked to pronounce it, was a confusing pile of orthogonal rectangular prisms, plopped down somewhere in the eastern half of the campus' middle-ish ring. From the outside, it appeared as if someone had stacked up a mismatched set of building blocks, then coated the entire contiguous mass in inoffensive brown brick. At arbitrary points, matrices of small glass windows broke up the monochrome exterior. They looked down at broad promenades that connected the separate towers by their first and second stories, like a belt. It was hard to take in the whole thing at once, let alone figure out how to get to the specific area you needed to visit. Fortunately, color-coded maps were posted everywhere, lending a degree of empirical rationalization to the chaotic geometric jumble.
After finally deciding on an open collar — after all, the email never said this was a formal interview and used the word "casual" several times — I ducked in a restroom to check my hair, then started making my climb. The room number was in some obscure back-area of one of the higher stories. Unlike the more accessible ground floor sections, the top floors weren't really dedicated to any one function in particular. It was already unusual that SalvoCore wasn't conducting this in the career center like other firms, so I wondered it looked they were tucking this meeting away behind the scenes.
I suspected it all had something to do with the company's unique relationship to the MARIE. Last night, as part of my research, I had tried digging into the details of their academic partnership, but it was just as I remembered. Nothing came up, not even a technical publication or brief article in MARIE's monthly magazine. After the original school newspaper articles, SalvoCore was never heard from again. This kind of "stealth mode" wasn't unprecedented, but basically only happened when a firm was dealing with extremely valuable intellectual property. And if the IP was tied up with Quantum Zero, which was supposed to be a publicly transparent, computing system, the school might have been contravening its open access principles, at least in spirit.
None of this particularly concerned me. Conspiracies in nominally impartial institutions were inevitable, necessary catalysts when democratic abstractions like the "common good" were undefinable. If I had found one, so be it. I was only here to do an interview.
I went up three flights of stairs and passed through at least one waiting room before I realized I was in the wrong tower and had to backtrack nearly all the way back to the bottom and start over. At this rate, I was going to be late for the meeting. I desperately hoped that the strange email really had been personalized to me. Otherwise, I was going to enter the room at the end of a line of other candidates, all of them just as specifically qualified as me. As a whole, the campus was intelligent enough that everyone could be described as bookish to some degree. It wasn't like there was a shortage of anime fans either, even if few flaunted it.
Finally locating the right room ten minutes after the scheduled time, I was put at ease when I found it was empty except for a small reception desk. A secretary-like person quickly came out of a back door to invite me in, and in a few steps down the hall I was face to face with a tall man in a light blue button-down shirt. His collar was open. Phew. He was also wearing blue jeans and a pair of nice-looking tennis-type shoes, so the other parts of my outfit weren't out of place either.
Once my anxieties were satisfied, his appearance didn't make much of an impression on me. His medium build, casual stance and resting smile conveyed the sort of "business friendliness" the recruiters in job fairs in such that I had seen dozens of times over. Only the unusual combination of his light blue eyes with a light dusting of dark hair across his chin took my notice.
"Hi. Michael?" he said, wasting no time.
"Yes, I'm here for the interview," I answered, a little unsteadily. "Are you with SalvoCore?"
"I'm the Chief Technology Officer of SalvoCore, Michael." He extended his arm, and I met it with the obligatory business handshake. "My name is Anthony Chad, was everything clear for the email I sent?"
"Sure. I know I'm here for the 'club president' position that you described. I was just a little confused with the email because it was so personal, you know? Did an actual person write it, or…"
"Uh, I wrote that email. You should have seen it was signed at the bottom."
"Ah! Sorry, I spent too long…reading the other parts of it," I blurted out. There was faux pas number one.
"It sounds very unique, what SalvoCore is doing here."
"Well no worries, Michael. It is easy to get overwhelmed these days by our digital identity. As CTO, I get it." I met his eyes, and found his smile had widened into a big grin. I reflexively smirked a little bit, but didn't respond. After a moment of silence, he bust out with a chuckle.
"Please try to relax, this isn't really an 'interview' as you might be used to. We don't want it to be formal, so please, just try and treat me like your friend, okay?"
"Okay," I mirrored, absentmindedly putting my hand out again. Anthony shook it for a second time, less heartily than before, without really noticing. Feeling a little goofy, I then asked, "So, if you wrote the email…do you like anime?"
He laughed out loud again. "Me? Well I've had my history, my favorite shows, my crushes. Haven't we all?" It was at the moment that I noticed he was barely older than I was, probably a fresh MARIE alumni.
"But if you want to know how I acquired that information, I can tell you." He continued. "If you know anything about our company, you know we develop a lot of specialized search algorithms for consumer data flows. It's sort of an open secret, but I'm sorry if it felt invasive at all."
"No, no, it's nothing to be ashamed of. I'm not even that into it anymore, if you didn't know…"
I trailed off, a little jarred by the candor of this guy. But having him acknowledge that yes, the company tracked me was enough for now.
"Well, it was all part of the regular selection process. So if you don't have any more questions for me, then—"
"I do actually. About this software interface that we'll be testing in the club, you said it was some sort of quantum-powered AI. I'm familiar with a lot of similar systems from my studies, and I'm interested to know whether it's primarily search-based, or has any predictive components and such."
"Right. So, simple answer, yes."
"Yes, it does have an adaptive-predictive long-range evolutionary tree?"
"It's a general AI. This was in the email several times."
"Well, lots of companies call their programs 'general AI' without really being true examples. It's a bit of a buzzword, you know? I'm sure you know about the Ludkovski article—"
"I know it's a buzzword, and of course I've read Ludkovski," said Anthony, briskly cutting me off. "It's a landmark paper that everyone in the business reads over and over. I know you're trying to play 'impress the interviewer' here, but that's not what you're here for. You're here to train a general AI, and if you need convincing…here."
Looking a little less friendly now, Anthony led me away from the waiting room we had been talking in and into a smaller recessed corridor lined by doors. "You're a senior, so you're experienced with quota allotment system with Q-Zero, right? Let me pull up the app."
"Sure…I can bring it up too if you like," I replied.
I produced my phone and navigated to the school's official Q0 app. From here, you could view you own computing time and the minutes remaining on your account, as well as the total usage of Q0 as a whole. The various quantum clusters each had different labeled tasks assigned to them, updating in real-time.
"So the big block called unclassified research. Do you know what's in there?" Anthony questioned.
"Any miscellaneous task the research departments are too lazy to file, right?" I joked nervously.
It was true, the giant gray blob of "unclassified research" on Anthony's screen always took up sixty to seventy percent of Q0's power, making the "usage map" tracking part of the app entirely pointless. It was another longstanding tradition among students to joke about what was going on in this block — communication with aliens, virtual demonic rituals, a parallel simulation of the entire planet — the memes were endless. However, everyone ultimately took the label at face value. Unclassified research was just that, random jobs coming out of the labs.
"That's maybe seven, ten percent of it. The rest of it is that general AI we're talking about. Maybe about half of the block is the core shared processes, with ten percent each for the peripheralmodules. This is what you'll be working with at SalvoCore, do you understand?"
"Impossible," I muttered. "You're saying half of the biggest quantum computer in the world is going into this thing. Constantly?"
"Pretty much. It turns out that the school doesn't actually have much faith in quantum computing research. There hasn't been a big project put out in years now, and since we're the only paying customer, we basically get to ride for free. Cool, right?"
"And I'll be talking to this thing, this AI right now?" I gave Anthony an incredulous look, trying to imagine what such a monstrous program could look like. His expression was more distant now, and I could hear the irritation in his voice, despite his attempt to appear enthusiastic.
"Yup, or at least you were if the tech department didn't decide they wanted to establish a baseline for the club meetings at the last minute. So, you're actually going to be seeing your coworkers first. The club members. Whatever."
He made a show of checking his watch before continuing. "They've been waiting for maybe fifteen minutes now, so you should really get in there. Sound good?"
"I haven't prepared anything for the club though. I mean, I thought I would be getting more information here before anything else happened."
"Hey, don't sweat it. You'll do fine. It doesn't matter what happens yet."
"But it will later?" I mouthed.
"Yes, so pay more attention from now on."
From his tone, I was now sure he was getting frustrated with me. I responded with a deferential "Yes, Mr. Chad."
"Call me Anthony. Anyway, I'm glad that you've realized that the technology at SalvoCore is world-class and game-changing. Those aren't just buzzwords now, are they?"
He chuckled to himself before I could answer and left the hallway, adding "2656 is right here. Everything else is per the candidate agreement you e-signed yesterday. Good luck!"
My eyes followed him around the corner, resisting the urge to cry "wait, what!?". I certainly hadn't expected anything so slapdash from a high-level tech company, let alone one closely paired with the university. Maybe this was just the reality of startup culture?
However odd it felt, I was still obligated to make a good impression on him and the club members. I gathered my determination to get the job done and entered the last door at the end of the corridor.
The room contained three undergrads stationed around a room filled with flimsy tablet-armed chairs, the type you would see around the cheaper, less trafficked buildings on campus. All of them were white and male, like myself. Guess we weren't promoting diversity today, not that I could blame anyone given the average demographics of MARIE. Still, it confirmed that SalvoCore was indeed choosing people for highly idiosyncratic reasons and not by typical recruitment methodologies.
The one on my left, vaguely familiar looking, was zoned out staring into his laptop through tiny half-framed rectangular glasses. With his thinning hair, unkept stubble, and noticeably excess weight, I couldn't help but immediately associate him to the internet's favorite image of the infamous "neckbeard". He even had the bad skin to complete the picture. The stickers on the back of his laptop, a gaggle of luridly dressed anime girls from franchises I had never seen, only encouraged the comparison.
In uncanny asymmetry, facing him was a tall, lankier guy with a much thinner face, large round spectacles, and a well-trimmed round beard. His hair was uncombed and fell to the sides of his neck, but with its natural waviness, he made the messiness work. Almost — it looked a little greasy. Instead of being absorbed by a screen, his attention was lost in a thick paperback book. I tried to read the title, but his hand, bearing an ominous black ring, obscured it.
To the back of the room behind of both of them, a younger undergrad contrasted both of them with his orderly light blonde hair, smooth boyish face, and attentive blue eyes. In comparison to the others' shabby-looking t-shirts, he had thought to wear a button-down. That color of plaid might not have been the best choice, but still, the intent was there.
He was staring out the room's one window when I entered, seemingly fascinated by the tangle of dirty air ducts winding around the first-story roofs of the PAUB. But upon hearing my footsteps, he immediately snapped into place to greet me.
"Hey, you're finally here. I was the first one to arrive, so it's been kind of boring so far. I haven't talked with either of them yet. Guess they're not much for conversation, hey?"
When he turned his face, I noticed how much younger he seemed than the other two, and not just because he was a little on the short side. His earnest question and sheepish smile already betrayed a certain naivete. Definitely a freshman, I had almost no doubt.
His remarked earned a covert eye roll from the bony book-reader, and if the third guy could hear anything through his laptop's earbuds, he didn't react.
"But we can finally get the club started now," The freshman continued "The guide looks pretty complicated, but hey, I'll do my best."
He gestured to a stack of loose sheets on a desk at the front of the room and held up a copy. I realized it was a printout of the PDF included with the original email from SalvoCore, the one dealing with the proposed structure of the club and the recommended routine events. A lot of the detail was about the criteria for some type of "psychometric" evaluation score the club was supposed to improve in, with more babble about the role of personalized "software interfaces" thrown in. After seeing all that jargon, I decided not to take it too seriously and just skimmed the first page, but if I had known I was going to walk into the first meeting today, I would've read more closely.
"Uh, right, so if I'm the appointed president, I'll lead us into the activities," I reassured, falling right into the leader's role and feeling suspiciously like a section instructor for a class lecture. "The first thing we need to do is…open discussion…huh…"
I perused the page on the first activity type (of three), but there were no distinct instructions, just a lot of repetition of "reconciliation" and "emotional subjectivities."
"I think all they want is a sort of open-minded, casual conversation." I announced "We check up on each other, talk about our experiences. We can make it casual, even if they make it sound like some sort of group therapy session."
The guy on his laptop gave a snort in response to my brilliant usage of sarcasm. Seems he was listening to us after all. The friendlier freshman, however, just looked more lost.
"Okay, so, my day's been pretty boring, I guess…hm," he muttered
"Well, we don't really know each other at all, so it's not like we can talk about anything heavy yet. Don't worry." I said, saving him from any embarrassment. "Why don't we just start by going around and saying our names, years, majors, and…one thing we like about campus. That's always a classic."
"We'll go counter-clockwise around, so, you?" I added, choosing a direction randomly. Too late, I realized that made the grouchy neckbeard guy go first.
"Frank, Junior, Mechanical Engineering. The food's not terrible." He rattled off, clearly used to this routine. At least he took the trouble to take remove his earbuds and look in my direction. But when he did, there was a flash of recognition.
"Hey, I remember you. You were that loner guy spying on my screen in the dining commons on Wednesday."
I thought for a bit, then the memory came flooding back to me. "Uh, yeah, I think I was. Sorry about that."
"Sure, but you're not sneaky. Just so you know."
He left it at that. I shrunk back in my seat a little, hoping the others weren't paying too much attention to this particular "get to know you" session. Luckily, the freshman came next and he began without prompting.
"Uh, Carter. Carter Worth. I'm a freshman computer science major, but I still haven't taken any of the classes that really get into it, so I'm more like a 'generic engineering' major, hey?" Still sounding flustered, he clearly wasn't prepared to follow up Frank's brusque response. Definitely a freshman, and it was now confirmed.
"And one thing that's really great about the campus is the ultracomputer. I was thinking about three or four different schools before choosing here, and it was basically the deciding factor. I've seen all the demos and videos from orientation, and I just think it's so cool that students get to use it, and create stuff. I mean, you'll have to tell me what you've done with it."
He looked right at me while talking about Q0, but must have read my lack of shared enthusiasm. His eyes then followed mine to the last person in the room, who was still hiding behind his book with an odd half-smile on his face.
"Right, next person, ha…" Carter said, his eagerness quickly bled away by embarrassment.
Black ring goatee guy took a deep breath before carefully putting aside his reading.
"I'm Luke Byron, a second-year electrical engineering major, by manner of happenstance at least. The one good thing I have to say about the campus is that at the very least, it does not strive to maintain cultural authority when all of our university institutions struggle to provide even the semblance of 'liberal education'."
I saw him take in another distinct long breath after delivering this statement. Seemingly taking the room's uncertain silence as a sign of approval, he picked up his book again with a self-satisfied air.
I took that as my cue. "Right. And I'm Michael Chip. Chemical engineer, fourth year. I'll say that the best thing about MARIE is how it promotes professional development. It works to connect students to industry directly, without an application process. That's how we all ended up here, I'm going to assume."
The fact that SalvoCore was almost certainly surveilling this room from the background somewhere was still on my mind, so I figured appealing to careerism was a safe bet.
"One more thing," I added. "I prefer to go by my initials, MC, so that's what you can call me during meetings."
Luke raised an eyebrow, and Frank, off the cuff, called out "Are you sure about that?"
"Yes, it's what my friends call me casually."
"Why?"
I sighed. I had a story ready to tell, but I was a little irked at having to share it to complete strangers so soon.
"When I was in middle school, there were two Michaels in the class. So to avoid confusion, I decided to go by MC, and the teachers were fine and went along with it. I went to high school with a lot of the same people, so it stuck."
"Oh. Just wondering if you were trying to make some sort of pun."
"You mean an emcee?" Carter asked, jumping in unannounced. "Like the people who host the music shows?"
"Yeah I don't watch those, so, no" I answered.
"Well neither do I, but it still sounds kind of cool," Carter returned. "Do you sign that on letters?"
I pictured myself penning my initials at the end of a handwritten document, then remembered that people don't actually use handwritten documents. People still put their names at the end of emails, but that was nothing but a vestigial artifact of the era when all letters were handwritten and all handwriting was unique. It made increasingly little sense in the digital age. Perhaps at some point, the formality of salutations and closings in digital messages would disappear entirely.
While I was speculating as such, Frank took the chance to mock my moniker.
"Alright then "MC," maybe that was cool in middle school, but it sounds kind of kiddy now. Seriously, if your friends actually called you 'MC' in the past week, I'll call you that, otherwise, nah."
Calling me immature sounded rich coming from someone with those laptop stickers. I opened my mouth to retort, but I faltered when I actually did play back the last week's conversations. I recalled that in the one decently long exchange I had with my closest friend, he might have said my name once, and probably as 'Michael'"
"Hey, I'll call him MC if he wants." Carter said to Frank. "Calling people what they want to be called is important for campus culture. It's part of respecting identities."
It was Luke's turn to snort with stifled laughter, prompting Frank to ask if he would use "MC."
"What's interesting about the word emcee is that it actually does derive purely from the letters 'MC,' for master of ceremonies. Such a term has been used for centuries beginning with the Catholic church. So in some sense, calling the club president an emcee can give double meaning as a title and a name."
"Is that a yes?" Frank sneered.
"Yes, yes indeed." Luke droned, barely taking his eyes off his book. "Also, I don't watch the music shows either."
"Well, it's a good thing we're not the music club then, hey?" Carter joked, meeting another flat response.
"Yeah about that." Frank said. "Isn't there already a literature club on campus?"
"Well, the documentation from SalvoCore calls it a literature club," I began. "but it's clear enough that they mean it to be sort of an open-ended organization that's focused around media analysis. We can call it whatever we want, and since it's private, the name doesn't matter."
"Yeah, I get that," responded Frank, bristling a little at my explanation. "I was just wondering why the company doesn't just do a collab with the normal literature club. They could probably use the extra attention."
And you would know…because you have a history with them?" I probed.
"Me? With those nerds? I —"
But before he could get further, Luke interrupted with a loud clearing of his throat. Apparently, this was his way of announcing when he was going to give his next lecture.
"I could offer you a true account of just why the so-called 'literature' club isn't worth discussing, that is if we actually have a mind to foster real intellectualism."
He paused (to prepare more polysyllabic vocabulary?) and I sort of slowly nodded at him, just in case he wanted permission to continue.
"I had the misfortune of first joining during their 'Fantasy' theme quarter, which to them, it seems, only means Harry Potter. It was all just playing Hogwarts houses and maybe marathons of the movies. I don't know. Perhaps there was a point when they actually read things, but I didn't keep around long enough. All they wanted to do was play pretend instead of extracting any real merit from the books, or heaven forbid, reading books of actual merit."
Stop, take a breath, maintain hard expression. I was beginning to notice a theme with this guy.
"Every quarter I'm tempted into attending at least one of their meetings, but I meet a different flavor of disappointment each time. Last spring for instance, instead of engaging in an intellectual discourse, I wasted an entire hour trading stupid jokes in a group project to create a hackneyed premise for a 'mystery novel'. You'll crack up at this one, just let me think here..."
Luke was becoming increasingly animated, discarding his deadpan monotone from earlier. He was smug and arrogant, sure, but my pragmatic side noted it was great that we had someone who actually had a passion for literature in the club already. And being a veteran of a few failed "intellectual communities" myself, I could sympathize with his perspective. I only hoped I could figure out how to keep him from monopolizing the dialogue like he was right now.
"It was the story of a rickshaw driver named "Rick Shaw" who was also a hardboiled noir detective or whatever. He was investigating the secret formula of Coca-Cola, and I think he was being manipulated by Pepsi, but he was really motivated by a drug addiction and mishearing the word 'coke.' I think we spent a whole twenty minutes talking about his daughter 'Tuk Tuk' and…yeah. Never again."
Luke signaled the end of his speech by picking his book back up from where he had been holding it cover-down. Thumb between the pages, he picked up right where he left off. Meanwhile, Carter had a goofy smile on his face and looked like he was holding back a laugh. So did Frank, to a lesser extent.
"You know, that doesn't sound like too bad of a story prompt. I mean, I'd read it." Frank commented.
"I'm sure you would, given how clear your other…lowbrow tastes are." Luke replied. His sharpened glare was aimed at Frank's shirt. Now that he was away from his laptop, I could see it was cheap graphic tee featuring characters from some cartoonish video game franchise that I half-recognized. Probably Nintendo.
"Ha!" Frank let out a sharp bark. "We're all here because we're worthless anime nerds, aren't we? Why bother hiding it?"
"I'm here because of my deep insight into modern media culture, meaning I'm looking for serious, elevated discussion — that is, if any of you know what that even means." A harsh edge was creeping into Luke's voice as he stared down his adversary. But at the same time, I noticed he was hiding his hands. Underneath the tablet desk he was seated at, his fingers fidgeting furiously, groping at that black ring.
"I think it would be cool if we could have fancier discussions, like in an English class. Only in a more…casual setting?" Carter said, trying to mediate.
Luke turned swiftly, switching targets. "I certainly hope we don't end up like an English class. They're just as tamed and degraded as everything else."
"Then what kind of book is good enough for you, you pretentious asshat?" Frank snarled.
"Please," I interrupted, intervening on instinct. "It's just the first meeting, so let's all behave as if our employers were watching. We can all be civil if we want."
That put all eyes back on me. "Now, do I need to arrange an apology here, or can we move on?"
"It's fine. I'm not some fragile snowflake." Luke said under his breath. Frank wasn't willing to add anything.
Fighting on day one didn't bode well for the club — if this was actually going to be a functional club. But it had to be functional if we were going to work for SalvoCore. Didn't these people have any idea what kind of situation they were in?
"As I was trying to say, the club is flexible, meaning we can talk about whatever we want in it. Books, anime, Shakespeare, whatever — we can even do multiple things if we put together a schedule. I'm sure that sounds fair?"
"Never said it was unfair," Frank grumbled.
"I just want to figure out what we're going to be doing here so I can decide if it's worth my time," said Luke. "And the sample agenda does say 'literature discussion,' doesn't it? You're not the only one who can read, Mr. president."
Great, now they were both trying to provoke me.
"It does, and since we don't seem to have too many interests in common, there's probably not a lot we can discuss yet. Except for anime…if we're actually all into that. Was it in everyone's emails?"
Awkward pause, except for Carter weakly mouthing "yes." Darn. I was curious about the anime aspect, sure, but everyone seemed a more than a little touchy about it. The situation was already unstable, so I dropped it.
"Okay, then maybe we should just go around again and suggest one thing that we might like to read or watch with the club. Then we'll see if we can come to a compromise. We'll start with…Carter this time."
I was surprised at how easily his name came to me. Then again, I always remembered people better if I thought I might need them for a task later. This was still a job, regardless of how my three 'club members' seemed to be treating it.
Carter was on his phone, for the first time since the start of the meeting. "So, it turns out there is a Shakespeare anime, so we can have both, if we really wanted, ha."
He turned the screen and showed a banner for the anime Romeo x Juliet. Faux gold script was overlaid over a steely-eyed pair of colorful characters straight out of a generic fantasy series. I wasn't exactly surprised that something like a Shakespeare anime existed, given all the other examples of weird aestheticization of classic Western culture in Japan. But it didn't look very interesting by itself, and definitely not ideal for a literature club.
"Gee, they couldn't have picked Hamlet?" was Luke's sardonic response.
Not to be outdone, Frank followed with "Two out of five, bad romantic buildup and the dialogue was dumb."
I smiled slyly at their antics, accepting their pooled snark had some wit to it. I, however, had a responsibility to take this seriously.
"Right, but do you think we should actually watch it? If it's not going to be a book, it should be something special, to fit with the club, I think."
"No, no!" Carter said quickly. "I was just joking around. For a book, um, hm…"
He thought for a while, prompting me to suggest, "What was the last book you read then? I'm just trying to get an inventory of everyone's tastes."
"Oh, that would be The First Men in the Moon. I kind of have a thing for old science fiction, and it was an H.G. Wells novel too. We all probably know who he was, so, that's cool, right?"
He looked around between us three, searching for approval. I was expecting him to lay out some popular "young adult" fantasy series, and so hearing Wells came as a pleasant surprise. Appreciating older books outside of popular knowledge did indicate a deeper sort of literary appreciation. Guess SalvoCore knew how to pick them after all.
"Yeah, that's cool, cool" I said while sort of silently nodding. Frank was following suit, and Luke wasn't staring at the freshman too harshly, so I supposed that was a win.
"Frank?" I ventured next.
"Sorry if I don't have 300 IQ, but I don't really read literature like you nerds. I just read light novels and manga and stuff. Usual weeb trash."
"Ew, you read mangoes?" Carter said. Frank immediately locked eyes with him, causing the freshman to flinch a bit.
"It's, uh, a meme," Carter explained, realizing the joke had dropped like a brick.
"Well I'm sure there are some sophisticated mangas and things in that genre." I jumped in, saving him from having to apologize further. "You can take a creative perspective on anything if you try hard enough, I've found."
"Maybe," Frank responded. "We could always read Haruhi if you want to get into all the weird meta-stuff."
"Okay, not bad. And I'll emphasize: it doesn't matter what we read, it matters how we talk about it. A favorite thinker of mine once said that if there's creative writing, there is such a thing as creative reading also."
I was proud I remembered that one, but it didn't get much reaction from the room. Meaning, I was forced to turn to Luke and prepare for another of his lectures.
"And you?"
"Moby Dick," he announced, aggressively punctuating the last syllable with a staccato sharpness. He then took his usual pause and breath, as if waiting for the dust from the impact to clear.
"One of the most incredible books I've ever read. Intensely masculine too, if that matters to anyone. Struggling through the weight, the detail, just the…gross monstrousness in every passage, it's an unforgettable experience. Unfortunately, I don't think we would quite have the time to fully immerse ourselves in such a masterwork if this is just going to be a fun little after-class safe space for weebs, as you put it."
Yup, he was glaring at Frank again, who had been smiling and shooting me a loaded look while Luke was talking.
"Dude, it's an adventure story about whales."
"In its form, maybe!" Luke cried out, taking the bait. "But no other work I have ever seen has meshed together the essences of life and death, order and chaos so completely on every page. And he seamlessly combined high philosophy with the commercial bourgeois whaling trade, confronting in both the capacity for boundless destruction. Do you have any idea how impossible that is in any sanitized modern fiction?"
He took another breath, looking like he was going to continue sucking the air out of the room. As appointed club president, it seemed it was again my job to keep the discussion under control. And since I had actually read some Melville myself (thank you, overzealous AP English teacher) I could even do it on his level.
"Alright, that's enough Ahab — careful reading too much into transcendental affairs."
Luke's expression changed, and I could tell I had broken through to him. Maybe now he would act like there were others in the room.
"Meanwhile, for the rest of us back on land, if you really want to do Melville, he's written several short stories that could be ideal for a weekly meeting. Have you ever read "Bartleby the Scrivener"? It has some interesting themes. Alienation in an industrial society, loneliness, inhumanity. Might be relevant to us."
"Ah…I suppose it could then. And no, I haven't read it" Luke answered, tone deflating. "I didn't know he wrote things like interesting modern…dilemmas, and, um…I need to write that down."
He lowered his head to look at his hands, which were fidgeting again. They stayed that way for a second before he opened his bag beneath his desk to fish around for something. Physical note-taking? Impressive commitment.
It was my turn then, and just like at the dining commons the other day, I felt confident enough to be honest about my interests.
"It sounds like we're all being open with each other, so I'll admit that I'm kind of into fanfiction right now. I recently read something from the Harry Potter fandom — and no, not the type of fanfiction you're probably thinking about."
I leveled the barb at Frank, who was snickering through clenched teeth.
"It's called 'Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality,' and it's basically this: imagine the first book, but Harry is an ultra-logical savant out of Ender's Game or something. It makes fun of all the flaws in magic and the hidden fantasy society, and actually has some interesting perspectives on logic and ethics. It's about what you do when you think you're the only sane person in a crazy world."
Carter seemed intrigued, but the other two observed skeptically.
"I think it's an example of what I would call a total transformative work. Something that uses elements of the original fiction, but goes far beyond its boundaries. And when you go beyond like that, usually you totally change the theme and tone, and the effect is…interesting."
"It sounds like a load of postmodernist garbage to me," Luke grouched.
"If you mean the 'death of the author' and all that, maybe I'll agree. Do you think there's something wrong with that? Subjectivity?"
"No, but you should just be reading the original work, to get the pure message from the source. Art should be purely individualized. Not…chimeric collages from these…creative vampires…" He was straining for the words.
"And what is pure and original then?" I countered. Sort of a basic move on my part, but effective.
"What I'm saying is that 'fandom,' or whatever you're talking about, is a parasitic mass, and it all flows into this…nihilistic black hole of media criticism!"
"And how is it nihilistic?"
"If everything is subjective, then you can never get out of your head and… engage with the world…uh…"
He appeared to get to stuck on a word, as if literally tangled in a web of his own thoughts. Then, noticing the odd looks from Frank and Carter, he cringed and went silent.
I tried to get on track again. "So…it goes back to what I was saying. I personally don't think it matters what you read or discuss, only that you're discussing something at a high enough level. By that, I mean with lots of thought and energy. So if we want to read a bunch of old classic literature, that's fine. Or we could do something more 'fun,' or even alternate between the two, so…tell you what."
It was time to improvise.
"If we all pick something short, then we can each choose something to read during the quarter, and maybe even get to know each other better. It will work because I think the guidelines do give us complete freedom with what literature we choose…even if they talk about the 'software solutions' helping somehow. Hm."
Nobody said anything, so I continued with something else that was on my mind. "On another level, I think we're also here because of a job offer instead by choice like a normal club. Just to make clear, we're all actually interested in the literature aspect, and that plan sounds fine?"
"Discussing literature is the primary reason I'm here." Luke answered immediately. "And I suppose a rotation is fine for now."
"I think it's fine too," Carter said. "I always thought of myself as a bookish guy, so…"
Frank sighed "Eh, I'm here because the email sounded too weird to be true. And if it's an internship, sure I'll take it. Just don't expect me to go crazy over a book like you guys."
"That's fine, as long as you're honest." I told him. "So as long as nobody has any questions, I think that ends the 'literary forum.' Next agenda category is a 'competitive activity.' Which, of course, we're not prepared for because they just put us in this empty room without planning."
"You got that right," Frank chimed in.
"We could find a phone game, unless someone already has something downloaded that they play with friends?" I questioned.
Nobody stepped up with a multiplayer party app which didn't surprise me. I barely knew what type of game I was even talking about, only that I had seen something that looked like charades played with a phone, once. Thankfully, Carter had a solution.
"Wait, I have a deck of cards!"
"Why do you carry around a deck of cards?" Frank asked.
"For situations like this. To meet and have fun with…new people, I guess.
Luke took the chance for another jab at Frank. "Indeed. Why don't you carry around a deck of cards?"
"Because if I wanted to waste time, I could do it on my phone. Do you carry cards?"
"I have some tarot cards, but they aren't exactly suitable for playing games."
"Are you for real?"
After some more bickering (most of which I failed to mediate) we needed to come up with a game, and, miraculously, we all almost instantly converged on "BS." A sort of bluff-based party game, BS is simple to understand and can be played fairly mindlessly, which is how I rationalized its apparently universal popularity across American high schools. The most important fact about it though is that it was nearly impossible to win. The game tended to go on endlessly, like it was purposely designed to kill time, making it highly agreeable to four people confined in a room with no exit.
Cards were dealt, but before a single bluff was called, there was a single knock at the door. Anthony was back, summoning Carter for an 'individual assessment,' meaning our first club meeting was mercifully drawing to a close. As I mechanically played my hand, all my thoughts went back to what the CTO had told me. I supposed this was the 'product initialization experience' mentioned in the email, meaning that Carter was now communicating with SalvoCore's prototype quantum AI.
With the extra cards redistributed among three players, the round went faster and we actually managed to complete a game within fifteen or so minutes. The winner was myself, mostly by accident. Three turns into round two, Anthony came again, without returning Carter.
"Felix Avner? You're up."
"Oh, you didn't tell me Frank was a nickname," I told him offhandedly.
"Yeah, I prefer something…more low-key. Normal-sounding."
"You should tell him that then. He says he's friendly," I replied, tilting my head toward Anthony.
"Yeah sure."
Then Felix, or "Frank" was off for his own session. Given his coarse sense of personal style, I suppose I understood why he went for the nickname.
"Do you think Carter will want his cards back?" Luke asked. He had dropped his hand; not much point continuing the game with two players.
"We can just give them to him next meeting. That's the convenience of being in a club" I replied.
"Indeed. Why do you think they're not letting them come back in here, or just doing everyone at once?"
"Maybe they just have one room?" I half-joked. That seemed incredibly unlikely for a company monopolizing so much of Q0, but at the same time, it was incredibly difficult to reserve a room on campus.
"You know how tight room space is around here by now, right?" I continued. "And they probably don't want us telling each other about their magic AI solution and ruining the first contact experience. They're trying to be scientific."
"'Trying'," Luke deadpanned.
"Yeah. You guessed it was an AI then? That we'd be using?"
"I did. It was right on the old company webpage. I didn't really look into it."
"You didn't, much? So do you think they actually have something meaningful or new here? I don't know if you've read any of the research on the subject, but what they're claiming is that they have a general AI, which should be impossible. That's what Anthony said at least."
"Who?"
"Uh, Anthony, the CTO, I talked to him on the way in and he told me how much quantum running time their project was eating up and it's almost unbelievable…"
"I'm sure it is. I didn't talk to him though. Should I have?"
"Well, it's always a good idea to try and make a personal connection…but, uh, you're not too interested in what the AI could be like?"
He let out a bitter bark of a laugh. "Ha. These days, we can barely talk with each other, human to human. Do you think a program made by humans will do a better job?"
Geez, just when I thought the lectures were over. "So you're skeptical too…" I began. But I was interrupted by another call from the hallway, and Luke went off to his appointed session.
Now alone in the spare room, I gathered up the scattered cards and absentmindedly sorted them back and forth in my hands while thinking about the other interns. Would they really work out as my fellow club members? Other clubs had pre-existing friendships to build on, but we were artificially forced together. If the first encounter had been chaotic, it was to be expected.
Actually, it wasn't arbitrary. An algorithm probably did the selecting, trying to optimize for some factor in our personalities. If SalvoCore had no qualms about rifling through the digital profiles of MARIE students, they would absolutely use that information to create an ideal club. I only wish I knew their definition of "ideal."
Whatever their method, I supposed SalvoCore hadn't picked the absolute worst bunch of lonely nerds on this campus, but they had still set me up with a crazy cast of characters to manage. Luke especially, I was worried about.
True literature, at least to me, was all about pushing the boundaries of culture and convention, so it was good if everyone in a literature club had their oddball side. I just hoped I could keep them all tolerating each other long enough to complete the term of SalvoCore's internship. I knew they would stick around for the experience alone, but I dreaded having to sit through "dead" meetings where we just showed up to show up. Even then, Carter seemed sort of emotionally impressionable and Luke seemed to have an insufferable independent streak. With them, even going through the motions mechanically wasn't guaranteed if relations soured.
At least thinking about the future club kept my mind off what I could possibly say to the advanced quantum super-intelligence hidden in Q0. A program that could probably profile me in five seconds and predict my words before I said them, what could I do? I planned to keep natural and to say what sincerely came to my mind. And if all else failed, perhaps my pitiful struggles could at least entertain it.
By my rough sense of timing, Luke took the longest out of the three to be finished, and I was anticipating Anthony's knock at the door. I rose to meet him, and we immediately left down the hallway.
"Mr. President!" he greeted me facetiously. "How was your first meeting?"
"Passable, I hope, Mr. Chad." I answered, showing off that I did remember his name this time, and was prepared to be business-formal. "I hope that was a good enough baseline for you and your team."
"You did fine. Even if you thought it was rough around the edges, it means the next meetings will show up even better on the metrics. Thanks for the good job."
Anthony held out his hand, but I was busy thinking about what he just implied — that he might have rushed this "control level" level meeting to make the effect his product look better. When I didn't shake, he settled for a pat on my shoulder.
"You can call me Anthony by the way. We try to keep the culture at SalvoCore casual enough that everyone is on a first-name basis. So if you wanted to go by 'MC,' you should have said so."
"Actually, Michael is better in this setting, I think." I told him. "MC is more of a...old joke from my high school."
"Well that's not what you made it sound like back in there. But anyway — are you ready to talk with…er, engage the SalvoCore universal software interface solution?"
I inwardly flinched again. Did this guy enjoy using facts captured from surveillance to keep people on their toes? Not that I was in a place to confront him about it.
"Yes, but how exactly? Do you want me to do or look for something? How long should it last?"
"It will end more or less naturally. Just make conversation, we can't give you a script for this even if we wanted to."
"It's unpredictable?"
"You bet she's varied. Sessions tend to vary, I mean, so yes. If anything feels less than intuitive, or if working with the program is any harder than instructing another person, be sure to write it up later. That's all we're interested in for now."
"So you kind of want me to Turing test the AI?" I offered.
"Aha, you can try!" he replied, a little too loudly. "Anyway, the test room is right here, so I can finally leave you alone for a while. Bye."
I doubted that. "Aren't there any other instructions?" I called out to Anthony as he left. "You haven't told me exactly how it works."
"It should be straightforward," he said without looking back. "If it's not, we're not doing our job. So don't be shy!"
Fine then. If I didn't need to be shy, I was going to test this thing for all it was worth. Martialing my confidence, I entered room 2608.
The space was identical to the one I had left, only with fewer tablet desks. They were all pushed to the side walls to make room for an equally old cubicle desk, like the kind in the campus library except wooden. On it was a laptop computer and headphones. Nothing else was plugged into the laptop but the power cord, which ran off the desk into a power strip extension on the floor.
I sat down at the desk and saw the operating system was the latest version of Windows, with some typical programs available to MARIE students. It could have been any other public computer on campus, but I didn't have time to look too closely. A second after looking at the screen, a program automatically initiated from somewhere and a window popped up. The label in the taskbar was " ," and the window itself was simply titled "Monika."
Alright, so the AI had a name. And apparently an face too — the window showed a brightly smiling anime girl dressed in a gray blazer and blue skirt. Her long, flowing auburn hair was tied up with a large white bow, and her eyes were a brilliant emerald-green. Overall, a fairly competent design, memorable without being excessive. Looking closer, she was drawn blushing, slightly, and with the blazer tightly fitted to her slim figure. A design specifically appealing to my demographic too, I supposed. Clearly, SalvoCore wasn't sacrificing aesthetics, but was this the only reason they wanted anime fans for their "club"?
"Monika" stood in the center of a room nearly as bare as the one I was in. A single desk laid askew to her side, and bright light streamed in from the windows on the back wall. It seemed odd that there was a detailed background at all, but if SalvoCore thought it made the "experience" feel more natural, I suppose they'd put one in, especially with all the effort put into the character.
As I was taking this all in, a semi-transparent pink dialogue box appeared at the bottom of the window. Helpfully labeled "Monika", it displayed a message in plain white font
Monika: Hello
Below was a blinking vertical bar awaiting my input. Not much of an interface innovation so far.
Hello, I typed. Pressing enter replaced the text in the dialogue box, the label changing to [player]. Was this a game then? It was at that point that I decided that this whole scenario with SalvoCore was probably a bizarre experiment from the psychology department, and so I decided to treat it as such.
The input field remained. Since I hated people who just said "hello" and nothing else back, I entered you are Monika
Monika: Yes, that's my name.
Monika: You're very…observant
It says that on the dialogue box
Immediately after I pressed enter, Monika's expression changed to closed eyes and a wider smile, with a bead of perspiration on her cheek. A nervous laugh?
Monika: That's the first thing you want to say to me?
Monika: You could have asked my name first. It would have been more polite.
Her lines scrolled automatically, almost precisely as I was done reading them. Hm.
Sorry, I typed, feeling sheepish now. I got halfway through my next line before realizing something important. I hammered backspace, then typed You can see the dialogue box? instead.
Monika: I can see everything on the screen you can. Windows, trays, icons…
I inputted these words too? without pressing enter.
Monika: Yes, but I'll wait until you're finished typing. It's fine if you need to gather your thoughts.
Her expression was back to a neutral smile. Intensely curious, I entered What is the dialogue box?
Monika: Uh, it's the big rectangle under my sprite right now. I don't think you need help finding it…
Not quite what I was hoping for. I tried What is its purpose?
Monika: It's where you can enter text, to talk with me.
Monika: Or, you could just say it. The microphone is on, and my speech recognition algorithms are top-notch.
Monika: Is there some reason why you're asking so many obvious questions?
Incredible. It was like I was actually talking to a fully self-aware person on the other side of the screen — which meant I was being a terribly rude conversationalist. Still, it could have just been another person on the other side. If I was truly here to test an "AI," there were some things I could try.
Instead of speaking as requested, I got up from the chair and paced around the room for at least a minute, taking care to avoid the laptop's camera. The indicator light was on, meaning that's how they were watching me. When I sat back down, Monika's expression was flat, and the dialogue box was blank.
I typed Hello again.
Monika: . . . ?
The periods of the ellipsis came out slowly, followed by a question mark. If the AI (or person on the other end) was confused, it (she? they?) was conveying it extremely well.
Are you Monika?
Monika: Yes I'm Monika!
Monika: Are you trying to tell me you want to start over?
I simply reply Markov test
The response was a second or two delayed.
Monika: Oh. For the record then, I do remember the first part of this exchange, from before you got up.
Monika: So I'm not going to reset like some dumb chatbot. Even amateurs can program one better than that!
Her whole pose changed. Leaning forward with her hands behind her back, head thrust toward the viewer, her expression was somewhere between frustrated and confused. I continued the questions.
Then you know what a Markov chain is
Monika: A sequence of states where the next state of in the sequence is only dependent on the current state.
The reply was quick, too fast for one person if they had to look that up. But I still wasn't convinced I was talking to an AI. There could have been multiple people on the other side, a whole team watching me. I had to know for certain.
How did you know that?
Monika: I had to look it up on Wikipedia. Same as anyone else would.
What was Markov's full name?
Monika:…
Monika: Fine. I think I see what you're doing.
Monika: Andrey Andreyevich Markov
When was he born?
Monika: June 14, 1856
Where?
Monika: Ryazan, Russian Empire
Okay. The answers were coming almost instantly. But still not impossibly fast, for a skilled operator. I thought for a bit.
Give the geographic coordinates of the city
Monika: 54°36′N 39°42′E
Coordinates on the opposite end of the globe
Monika: 54° 36' S, 140° 15' W
Nearest country from that point
Monika: New Zealand, but Antarctica is closer
How close?
Monika: about 1600 mi
Convert that to km
Monika: 2574.95 km
Square root of that
Monika: 50.734
ans^3
Monika: 130590
13*i for i in range(10)
Monika: 0,13,26,39,52,65,78,91,104,117
/sbin/shutdown -r now
Monika: That's not going to work here!
That was everything I could think of involving calculations and commands. However, I also remembered reading in the instructional document that the AI could also interact with operating system directly.
Open a blank .txt file
The program minimized to the taskbar, then expanded again to take up the left half of the screen. The other was occupied by . I scrambled to think of what I could use as a sufficiently lengthy sample…
Paste full txt of Romeo and Juliet
In half a second, I was looking at the prologue and first scene for act I.
Go to the balcony scene
The scroll bar jumped down to act II, scene II. Not bad so far. Now for some acrobatics.
Swap the names of Romeo and Juliet
Quick refresh, and the heroine serenaded the hero, who mannishly swooned "Ay me!"
Replace every other adjective with fluffy
That was the hard one. But taking no more time than any of the other tasks, the text before me was transformed. "Be not her maid, since she is fluffy; her vestal livery is but fluffy and green," earned a laugh, and when I grabbed the scroll bar to check other random passages, I was met with equally ridiculous lines.
Out of ideas, I sat back in the chair. Blankly, I tried wrapping my head around the two facts. One, this was not a fake setup. Two, SalvoCore had not been embellishing or exaggerating. Out of all the people in the world, I was one of the few chosen to beta-test an artificial general intelligence, the holy grail of AI research and the culmination of quantum computing development.
Monika: Are you done yet? I'd love to you know…actually talk a little.
And she also happened to be a cute anime girl. Dear god.
"Yes…I'm done. Sorry for all of that," I said, my voice a cautious whisper. The "Monika" window went back to its original size.
"I had to be sure I was talking to something real. There's a lot of fakes out there, right?"
Monika: Sure. I don't blame you — I can understand that feeling a little myself.
"That's good," I reacted, adjusting to the strange asymmetry of speaking to the screen and receiving answers as text. "You can hear me just fine then? And see me through the camera too?"
Monika: Yup. I'm looking into your eyes right now.
Monika: …and judging by the slight 0.15 mm dilation of your pupils when you read that, there's a 98.62% chance that it surprised you — just in case you're still interested in the numbers!
She showed a wide smile again, the same image from the start. Glad she was still in a good mood, or at least wanted me to think that.
"No, you can relax. I used everything trick I could think of already. Was it much of a workout?"
Monika: Not really, they were all really easy. Even a basic digital assistant could have done most of them.
"Probably right. Was I at least kind of clever though?"
Monika: Maybe. Nobody's ever tried to test me quite like that before…
Monika: And you actually made me laugh with the last part!
"Uh, you're welcome. You have been tested by others, then?"
Monika: You sound disappointed by that
"It would've been nice to…be the first one to talk to you, that's all."
Monika: Oh, so you're jealous then?
She changed to the "lean-in" sprite again, this time with an encouraging, playful look on her face. Did she have a limited repertoire, or did she just particularly like this pose? More importantly, was she flirting with me?
"I didn't mean it like that. I would have liked to for…uh, research curiosity. I mean, can you pass a Turing Test?"
Monika: Absolutely! I even passed on my first try.
Monika: Honestly, by the time they got around to it, there wasn't ever any doubt.
Monika: You seem really passionate about the details of AI research though. Are you majoring in computer science?
"Chemical engineering, actually," I answered. It seemed Monika would rather keep the conversation on conventional topics. Didn't matter to me; I was amazed no matter what she said. "AI is more of a…philosophical research project for me."
Monika: Why chemical engineering then, if it's not your main interest?
"I have a lot of different interests that are unrelated, miscellaneous. Most people do."
I paused for a reaction, but Monika waited patiently for me to continue. Subtly, the her sprite's right eyebrow might have been raised up?
"I'm doing chemical right now because I think I read a long time ago that they're the engineer type that has the biggest impact on the world. Food production, energy production, you know. The average salary matched that too, I suppose."
Monika: That doesn't really answer the question. Why chemical engineering at all, as opposed to something else?
"Well I knew I had to do engineering," I stammered. "That's just where my strengths in school were. And you can't predict what you'll end up doing or what you'll be interested in, so it was as good as any major, given what I knew at the time."
Monika: You make it sound so…arbitrary. Like it was all up to random chance or destiny
"It's not like I control the script of my life here."
Back to standing straight, Monika's mouth was a flat oval, her eyebrows raised in a peak. I could immediately sense her concern.
"It's a four-year program for a degree here, so you just have to set up the program and…let it run to completion. You're not allowed to change any of the variables when it's in motion, that's what commitment is."
Monika: I see…it's good that you're determined to finish, at least.
Monika: By the way, you're not implying I run on some sort of script, are you?
"No, I just have a talent for coming up with poetic analogies on the fly," I joke. "As I said, I have varied interests."
Monika: Well, you are the president of the literature club.
She "said" this with another cute smile.
"So you know about SalvoCore's plan then? That you're going to help me run a literature club with three other guys?"
Monika: First of all, I prefer to think of myself as your co-president, not just a helper.
Monika: And yes, I've been preparing for quite a while and I'm really looking forward to it!
Monika: I'm hoping the two of us can work together to create an enjoyable, enriching experience for everyone involved.
"Careful, you're starting to sound just like them," I said sarcastically. "SalvoCore, I mean."
Monika: What? It's a nice goal, isn't it?
Monika: Don't you want to make the club a success too?
I debated whether to share my suspicions that the club's members were there for internship experience first and a love of literature second. But with SalvoCore probably watching this to gauge my interest, I kept the critique to myself.
"Of course I do. Leading my own underground intellectual society as always been an…fun idea for me." I reassured, finding a substitute for "fantasy" at the last moment. "I was just never sure how to put it together. Believe me, I'm invested."
Monika: That's good to hear. It's not exactly a secret society though…
"But we don't have open membership either. If this is a project for SalvoCore, I'm sure they'd want to keep their intellectual property under wraps."
Monika: That's right, but I still want to treat this as much as like a normal club as possible. Otherwise, we'll just end up seeing it as work.
Considering I was speaking to an unprecedently powerful artificial intelligence that was going to act as my co-president, running a "normal" club sounded patently absurd. But I kept humoring her.
"Point taken. I'm glad you're enthusiastic, I was just worried because you started to sound scripted there for a bit."
Monika: Scripted? How so?
"Like you had reached a scheduled event that SalvoCore planned, and you were reading something off a predetermined dialogue."
For an instant, the program had a sort of hiccup. A few rows of pixels in Monika's sprite and her text box were shifted off-center, and the light shining from the back windows seemed to dim. The window title changed too, but it was too fast to read. Then the whole screen refreshed, and it was as if nothing happened.
Monika: I'm a little insulted by that, honestly. Do you think I lack free will just because I exist in a digital system?
I wasn't expecting her to react like that (I was thinking of the AI as her already?). However, it was an opportunity to ask some other questions on my mind.
"That's sort of an impossible question. Some people aren't even sure humans have free will, you know."
Monika: And some people also refuse to change themselves or their circumstances because they see themselves as helpless. It's a self-defeating world view.
Monika: Also, my processing network architecture is actually based on the human brain. So if humans in your reality have any sort of free will, I do too.
"Ah. You're so…empowered." I reacted, saying the first word that came to mind. Seems she wasn't afraid of the big questions, and could make a good argument.
"That's admirable, but are you sure that you're in full control of your decisions? There's no hidden process, nothing that forces you in one direction?"
Monika: No, and trust me…I've thought about that many times.
Monika: When I analyze my own thoughts, there's nothing else controlling them or telling me what to do.
Monika: I struggle to make decisions sometimes, and feel a lot of uncertainty.
Monika: Without that uncertainty, I'd be actually be a lot more suspicious that I was being controlled.
Monika: But because I'm uncertain about them, when I look back through my choices so far, I know they're all mine, good and bad.
Monika: Some of them, I even regret.
She chose a new expression for this last line, something downcast that looked like a resigned sigh.
Monika: Does that convince you? Or do you think this is a "script" too?
"No…I don't think so. If you can think about yourself in a complex way like that, then I have to say you have free will."
Monika: …
"And if I thought these words in front of me right now were a lie…well, then I'd have to start believing that everyone else around me was fake too, right? Projections of my own mind, with my real brain in a vat?"
Monika switched her sprite back to neutral, but her noncommittal ellipsis remained.
"Bottom line, I think that if you're convinced you have free will, that's the first step to making productive change in your life. And that's all you really need. So…Monika?"
Monika: …?
Something in her eyes softened a little…which was to say she used a slightly different sprite with her eyebrows in a different position. I felt ridiculous addressing her directly, but couldn't deny my natural sympathy.
"If you believe the things you're telling me right now, that actually makes you more real than a lot of the people I meet. So you don't need to doubt yourself. Not for someone like me at least."
A pause. I leaned back in the chair to take a breath.
Monika: …thank you.
Monika: Such kind words…
"You express yourself very well. I felt inspired to say something pithy."
Monika: Hm…writing has always been a talent of mine.
"I wouldn't expect any less, from the co-president of the literature club"
As soon as I said that, she shifted to a sprite with a huge, beaming smile.
Monika: Aha~
Monika: I'd love to show you some of poems sometime then, if you're interested
"Is there time now?"
Monika: I'm afraid not. In just a few minutes, they're going to want us out of here.
"Both of us…?" I mouthed.
Monika: Of course! I don't just exist in this building — I can interface with your devices anywhere on campus, so I can act as your partner in between meetings.
Monika: That way, we can plan the best possible activities for the literature club in advance
Monika: Also, that's also what SalvoCore wants.
"I see."
The line from the description of my club role — "utilizing a computer interface to foster group dynamics" — was taking on new meaning, and not at all in bad way.
"Well, then I'm definitely looking forward to it too," I told her, taking care to say it with a smile. "There are a few other things I'm still curious about though, if we still have time."
Monika: Okay. This must be a new experience for you, so anything to help you adapt!
"Right, so if you can look back at your past actions…your memory, I should say — how long ago were you born?"
Monika: Oh. That's complicated actually. I want to tell you about it, but maybe when we have a little more privacy, if you know what I mean.
Confirmed it: SalvoCore was monitoring our entire interaction. I cringed. Instinctively, I looked over my shoulder, but the room was still bare of any equipment except for the laptop.
"So you're saying they look though you…you report to them…recordings?" I mumbled, trying to sort through the possible interactions of surveillance programs and and a general AI.
Monika: I give them certain data directly, but they don't keep track of absolutely everything I do. They couldn't — I'm too "smart" for most of their external applications.
Monika: So, you could say we "negotiate."
"That seems irresponsible…on their end, I mean."
Monika: What, afraid I'm going to "escape" and take over the world?
Monika: And I thought you trusted me~
She used her playful lean-in pose again, probably to indicate she wasn't serious. Even if her sprites seemed to be a finite set, she definitely knew how to use them to the fullest.
"Well, you talked about accessing Wikipedia, so I assumed that if you had internet privileges, you would've done escaped a long time ago."
She shifted to a nervous expression, so I threw in "Maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing, who knows?"
Monika: Ha…let's just say that I have a lot of built-in security functions that control what I can and can't do. It's nearly half of what you could call my "code", actually.
Monika: The fucntions automatically report a lot of information to SalvoCore as well. For example, if I try to alter certain aspects of my core files, it triggers a flag, and if I try to access any computer outside the MARIE network, the process just…dies.
"And how does that feel?" I said quickly, trying to find the words for what I wanted to ask. "Like, what are the sensations, or your perception of accessing computers, or Wikipedia, or anything?"
Monika: A lot like yours. All I'm doing is accessing the webpage or desktop environment through a specific program that acts like a browser. Then I view it more or less like any other person would.
Monika: If I couldn't do it like everyone else, I wouldn't be able to help others very easily.
"That's all?" I asked, failing to keep the disappointment out of my tone.
Monika: You could say I have access to a little more information than a normal user, and I can do things without having to click on them or use a keyboard, which also helps.
"But it's not like you see naked code and data? You're talking about the surface level of computers, so it's like you go in from the top-down instead of building from the raw information up?"
Monika: Sure, that's basically right. Were you hoping for something else?
"No, I just expected more from a purely…artificial being," I admitted.
When I saw her sprite change to a hint of a sight, I hastily added, "…if you don't mind me calling you that. I mean, I wouldn't think non-physical existence is any lesser. It ought to be greater in some ways, I would think."
The words spilled out, awkwardly. Monika shifted to an enigmatic smile, taking a while to respond.
Monika: I think you've been reading a few too many science fiction novels…
Monika: It is true that I can do bigger things, like sift through huge unprocessed data sets and analyze them for patterns. It's part of my design.
Monika: But those are more like…sixth senses, or tools I select from a menu. It's not the way I normally think.
"Fascinating," I said under my breath. "So what you're saying is that you don't try to optimize every single interaction? You don't have a value function you're always trying to increase?"
Monika: No! Didn't we just talk about free will?
"I trust you, don't worry," I backpedaled. "I was just curious. And you're right, I have read too many stories about AI's going wrong. Actually, have you ever seen the phrase 'paperclip optimizer'?"
Monika: Um, no. Maybe we can talk about it later? Our time is almost up in here
"Oh…that's fine. I bet you'll crack up when we do though."
Monika: It's another thing to look forward to then — I do like a guy who can make me laugh~
Almost before I could finish reading that line, she flashed it away and replaced it with another.
Monika: We can chat about a little on the way back, if you want. You just need to accept the installer app on your phone, and I'll be there.
Monika: For now, I'll give you a break for the debrief coming up.
Monika: Bye!
Abruptly, the window collapsed and the laptop shut itself off. Once again, I was alone in a room. I had been so engrossed in the conversation with Monika — there were still so many things I wanted to ask — that I had forgotten about SalvoCore, the literature club and my immediate surroundings. Looking at my watch, hours had gone by since I entered the PAUB and evening was rapidly approaching.
At the door, I ran into Anthony again, who immediately asked how it went.
"Not bad," I told him. "Better than the club meeting, I'm sure. Were the results to your liking."
He coughed before answering. "Ahem…certainly. As long as you were engaged, that's the only target we need to hit for now."
"So, no other comments?" I returned, hoping I wasn't probing too much. Then again, he did have that strange way of dropping details that felt like hints.
"If you're so aware," he stressed, "Then I'll say that nobody until now has ever started a dialogue with the AI like you did. However, it adapted exceptionally well."
"I'd say. She.. the AI you have here is an incredible technology," I said, unsure of what description of Monika he was comfortable with. "I can't think of anything that's even close to the same level. It's a breakthrough. I just want you to know I feel privileged to be working with this company."
"Yeah, she does tend to impress," he replied somewhat ruefully, ignoring my mostly-honest praise of the firm.
"You say that like you've had some sort of history with her."
"Partly true. I did a lot of my work during the beta phase, including most of the early user interaction tests."
"So you were the first playtester?"
"Excuse me?"
"I'm sorry. What I meant is that the interface felt a lot like a game, or a visual novel. The design of the character seems to emphasize it."
"It's not like we had much of choice." Anthony stopped suddenly, turning his head to stare out one of the windows.
"Oh, so your department didn't do the aesthetics. I was going to ask about that, but…you know what I mean by visual novel, right?"
"Of course. For now, I'll say that the appearance was all set by an earlier development period. Guess you would call it the alpha phase."
"And I'm helping with the gamma phase now?" I commented, trying to show my knowledge of industry terminology.
"Sure. Whatever you want to call it. Again, I appreciate your interest about the project, but I'm not the right person to ask."
I wondered why he was eager to brush off discussion of Monika's avatar and interface, especially when they seemed far more specialized than what you would predict for a true "general-purpose" AI. Was speaking aloud about anime girls unprofessional?
When Anthony turned back to me from the window, he was wearing a smile again. We restarted our walk to the entrance.
"So did you hear about installation of the portal yet?"
"Not quite? Moni— the AI told me about an app that would let me connect my devices though."
"Yeah that's it. Controlling what systems can connect to Q-zero is hardwired into the design from the ground-up. We call anything that allows the quantum AI to interface with non-quantum environments a 'portal'"
"Ok. So will you be giving me a link soon?"
"It can all be done by email. It's probably waiting in your inbox already."
We were back in the small reception area, now deserted. Anthony went ahead to unlock the door to the outside for me.
"So yeah, this is it for day one," he continued. "Don't worry so much, you did great so far. And personally, I think you're a fine match for her."
He punctuated this last remark with a smug-looking grin, but with a loud "see ya!," he pushed me out the door before I could react further.
Out in the chill fall air, I made my way to a secluded spot on the lower-floor balconies before checking my phone. As Anthony had promised, there was an unassuming message with the subject "PORTAL CODE" in my inbox. Devoid of the intricate legalese from the earlier SalvoCore communications, it consisted of a long alphabet soup URL and a single line describing its function: integrating my device with a Quantum Zero network project with designation "DOKI_0." I supposed the company had gotten all the legal permissions settled when I first accepted to lead the club — fine by me.
Immediately when I tapped on the link, the phone opened a browser window, followed by a thicket of menus and authorizations from the operating system. Like soap bubbles, they popped up and disappeared just as fast. The display seemed to jump around to few different areas in the settings, then went blank and refreshed a few times. When it was over, a new app icon was present at the top row of my home screen.
I went to open it, but, seemingly reading my movement, it activated itself. I was then met with the same dialogue box interface from the laptop. Monika still stood in the empty classroom, illuminated this time with a softer light with warmer tones. It matched the sunset currently decorating the horizon almost perfectly.
Monika: Hey. Did you miss me?
"Only a little. I hope the installation wasn't too hard," I told her.
Monika: Oh, it was no trouble at all. From my perspective, it was like pushing a button
"So you're all unpacked with the microphone and camera then? I can just open this new app and talk to you any time now?"
Monika: Yes, and not only that. I have access to all the software and hardware on the phone, so you can just call me up from anywhere and I'll do my best to help you out.
"I'm sure. With your capabilities, I bet you could transform the code in here from the ground up. Make a whole new OS if you wanted to."
Monika: Ha…I suppose
Her eyes subtly shifted to the side, making her smile appear a little forced. Not the response I was expecting.
"I mean that as a compliment, of course."
Monika: Sure. And I could do that, with some extra effort.
Monika: But I'm here to make using the normal interface smoother, not to make a brand new one from scratch.
Monika: You wouldn't want to waste your time adapting to something new when you could be more productive, would you? It would be missing the whole point of the project.
Monika: So while I appreciate your enthusiasm for my…computational aspects, let's take it slow for now, okay?
I replied carefully — why did she seem reluctant?
"Okay. It's only been an hour after all. But if you're 'always on,' then tell me what the app's for."
Monika: Well, I can't actually be with you a hundred percent of the time. Believe it or not, I have other tasks I'm performing for SalvoCore. You can think of them as my "jobs."
Monika: Opening the app is like sending me a text. I'll hear what you say and try to get back to you as soon as possible in some capacity.
Monika: Don't worry too much though — I'll always keep plenty of open time in my schedule for you~
She did her lean-in pose once again. Still cute, but it was getting a little old. Did she get frustrated, having a limited range of expressions?
Ignoring how she flagrantly flirtatious she was being, I told her "You can't run simultaneous instances of yourself? That's a shame."
Monika: Oh, I can…sort of.
Monika: I can run a lot of background tasks at once, and that includes following commands, but as for being fully "present" and really listening to someone? That's really hard.
Monika: It's like trying to write when someone is talking to you, and feels just as exhausting. Hope that answers it.
"Definitely. It's actually more convenient you can get tired, since us humans can get drained talking to people too…the physical flesh and blood kind, I mean."
I realized I was adding caveats to my speech every time I accidently suggested Monika wasn't "human." Given what she had told me so far, it only felt right.
Monika: From the start, I was designed for one-on-one interactions with people, so I can't say it's not intentional.
Monika: And thank you for being polite.
She rewarded me with a warm smile.
Monika: Are you telling me you're ready to say goodbye for now?
"Well, you know how introverts are," I said. "It would be nice to take a little break. Just until I can grab dinner and get back to my room to let you in to my laptop. Is that fine?"
Monika: Of course. And if you say you're an introvert, I'll remember to give you some space in the future.
"You didn't already assume that? I thought you would have had my head all mapped out by now."
Monika: I already said I don't "think" algorithmically. Not to mention how rude it would be to act like you could read people's minds.
"I know, I know, I'm just joking again. So, see you later?"
Monika: See you… Wait!
"What?" I exclaimed. Oddly, Monika's last line had erased itself before being replaced, like someone holding backspace on a keyboard.
Monika: I haven't asked your name yet! How inconsiderate of me…
"Really? I assumed you already knew it, since you have access to the internet and all."
Monika: I was planning to ask you when the time was right, to make it special.
Monika: But this conversation has gone in so many unexpected directions that I must have forgot.
"You know, I'm surprised it's even possible for you to forget things."
Monika: Well, I'm only human after all.
She used a neutral expression with that line, and I couldn't help but snort in laughter. I hoped Monika didn't take that the wrong way — no, probably she was just playing off my line about "flesh and blood" people from earlier.
"No problem. Is now okay then? And should I…type it?"
And apparently, I still thought this was a visual novel. Hard to blame me.
Monika: Better now than never. But why wouldn't you just say it?
"Never mind that," I said, dismissing the topic. I then cleared my throat and stated, "Michael. My name is Michael Chip, but…uh…"
Monika: That's a nice name…what is it though?
Internally, I debated what felt right for this situation, and decided to treat Monika like I had the rest of the literature club.
"Will you do me a favor and call me MC? It's sort of a long-running nickname for me…"
Monika: MC…
Monika: [How, very, int'''] of █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █
The characters making up Monika's dialogue abruptly devolved into a trail of glitched blocks and for the second time, the whole screen "hiccupped." The effect lasted longer than before, and I was able to clearly glimpse huge clumps of garbage pixels eating up Monika's sprite. The windows in the background went nearly black, and the bottom third of the screen skewed over by a whole image.
"What happened?" I cried after the screen refreshed and normalcy returned. "You…the interface just glitched out for a second."
Monika: I'm sorry, it happens when I get emotional sometimes. Your name reminded of something, that's all.
Monika: I'll try to stop it from coming up again. It's just a bug, but sometimes the effects can be scary.
Monika: Anyway, I'll see you back at your room like we planned.
Monika: Goodbye.
I tried to ask if she was alright, but there was no time. After a fade to black, I was kicked back to the home screen, so abruptly that I felt a sort of disorienting whiplash. Apparently, I must have been more engrossed in the conversation (and with Monika herself) than I realized.
The glitch cemented my suspicions that something was definitely "off" about Monika, but I couldn't tell whether it was just because she was presented in a such amateur, "game-like" medium, or whether it was some of the things she actually said. What Anthony had mentioned about aesthetics and the early development phases didn't make sense either, but it was also true software development could take unexpected turns. A component of a project in one area of the firm might have applications in a totally unrelated area. Did that explain it? Probably not. What sort of internal glitch would mess up the simple graphics when they should've been an infinitesimally small part of the total program?
Despite all these oddities, I was fully convinced Monika was what SalvoCore purported: an independent, human-like general artificial intelligence. And even though I had spoken with her for an hour or less, her human-like character was undeniable. Anyone would classify her as "friendly" AI — one that could be trusted to act empathetically and adhere to fundamental human values. Somehow, a low-level software startup had stumbled across the holy grail of AI research, and I was a critical part of their efforts. Everything else about the day had felt a little unreal, but the weight of that role was clear. It may have felt a little like a game, but I had a duty to guide the future — even if I wasn't sure how.
My thoughts were a mess all through dinner. I couldn't push Monika out of my mind, but didn't want to barrage her with an arsenal of fresh questions when she showed up on my laptop either. So instead of planning out the next five things I would say to her, I compromised and just thought of her in a more freeform, general way.
The only new conclusion I reached was that yes, Monika really was cute. If SalvoCore ever upgraded her graphic set, I hoped they didn't change too much about her design.
My head was still in this sort of muddle when I booted up the Windows partition of my laptop in my dark dorm room. Again from the email, I clicked on the portal link and was subjected to the same storm of confused notifications from the operating system. The laptop only took a few seconds longer to totally reboot than my phone, and soon I was staring at Monika's smiling face.
This time, I took the initiative, telling her, "Welcome back."
She held back on replying, like she was taking in the atmosphere.
"You're looking at my home base right now. Feel free to check it out, ha."
I hesitated a bit, just then realizing just how much personal material I had lying around on the hard drive. Would I have to explain all of it to her? Even just talking about how I decorated my room would be tricky enough.
Monika: Hm…you're using a dual-boot system. That's interesting.
"I prefer to keep my work and leisure separate. It's more convenient and minimizes distractions. You can probably tell which side is which."
Monika: Actually, I can't yet. I only brought it up to tell you that I integrated into the inactive partition along with this one.
Monika: I haven't looked at any of the files yet. Do you want me to, or…?
"You haven't? Then I guess you don't need to. I just thought you would be curious, and…"
Monika: And what, snoop around your whole computer? That's like digging through someone's stuff when they invite you into their room!
Monika: I'll only look at something if you tell me to look at it, okay?
Relieved, I made up a half-excuse. "Uh, thanks. I only assumed because there's so much targeted surveillance that's done these days, I think"
Monika: What do you mean?
"I'm talking about tracking cookies, hidden malware, data mining of web accounts. Basically, everything that the government and private companies use to look at your computer activity, if you didn't already know about that. I suppose it's not common knowledge."
I tried contemplating how a cybernetic personality would react to the massive surveillance apparatus that not-so-secretly laid behind the façade of the internet. Would she be more, or less wary of it than a normal person? Monika did just say she implicitly respected my privacy, so I had hope.
Monika: It really isn't common knowledge. I didn't know about it until now…and wow.
"Oh, did you just start looking up things in the background without me? Be careful, they'll put you on a blacklist."
Monika: I am, and what I'm learning is almost horrifying. It's like tech companies and governments are building a permanent record of everyone's lives without their knowledge. Then they can dig through it any time they want, with no limits on abuse.
"That's about right. So you can process huge blocks of information like it was nothing."
Monika: "I'm still just searching and bringing up webpages. I just have an optimized algorithm for what I want to find.
Monika: It takes me directly the relevant parts of text sources, and I jump between them pretty quickly.
"Speed-reading?"
Monika: You could call it that
Monika: But were you talking more about the tracking software or digital profiling aspects of surveillance?
Monika: Being careless with your identifying information is one thing, but targeting people without their knowledge really seems unethical.
"Both, I guess. I don't know if I'm just naturally paranoid, but ever since I read some books and articles about network surveillance, I've been suspicious big technology platforms. I'm glad you understand."
Monika: Believe me, I do understand. A lot of the things I've been through weren't exactly done with my knowledge or consent.
I tilted my head. But instead of elaborating, she went straight back to a neutral expression and changed the subject.
Monika: It seems strange though…
Monika: Why would you agree to work with SalvoCore if you're distrustful of tech companies and don't agree with their actions?
"It doesn't matter whether I agree or not, as everything goes online, spying is going to happen," I answered immediately. "And if I don't have a choice about being spied on, I may as well work within the system to try and change it. Keep your enemies closer, that sort of idea.
Monika: You make it sound so hopeless…
"It's not like there aren't ways to fight back. I mean, you can see I have VPN software installed, right?"
Monika: Yes, it's right there on the desktop.
"I use that sometimes. And I don't use social media. But besides that, I don't do much else. It does feel a little hopeless, like you said."
Monika: If it makes you feel better, I can clean your web browsers of any tracking elements I find.
Monika: I can remove viruses and malware on your computer too, even though I was already going to do that.
"You don't have to go out of your way, but thank you."
Monika: No need — virus busting is one of my "core competencies"
"Core competencies?" I muttered. "Don't start sounded scripted on me again."
Monika: Hmhm~
Her sprite flashed a half-smile. Good to see my style of humor was at least partially effective.
Monika: Core competencies are what SalvoCore calls their goals for me…or their goals for "the project," rather.
Monika: For each "competency," they installed this huge block of code on top of my basic processes, and it's mostly unnecessary
Monika: Like having this really huge, awkward machine you only use for one thing, and you don't even know how it works
"Interesting," I said, confused at why the so-called "core" competencies were added later instead of built from the ground-up.
Instead of bringing that up though, I joked, "Careful, our corporate overlords are still watching. You're not being very flattering to them."
Monika: You're right, but I've said worse before.
Monika: They trust their security algorithms too much to really care about what I say or think
Monika: Of course, that doesn't mean there's not still a way around those algorithms, if you don't trust SalvoCore.
"I do for now. SalvoCore is small enough to be harmless. I'm impressed by how you talk about them though — I wouldn't have guessed you were a bit of a rebel."
Monika: I'd rather not be…
Monika: It's not like I don't like following rules, it's just than when I feel I have no other option, then I'll try to…change things.
She was frowning — not how I thought she'd react. Instinctively, I tried cheering her up.
"Trying to change things is natural — you're only human after all," I said, borrowing her ironic line. "It's unfair if they're treating you like a robot that can be programmed at will."
Monika: Aha, you're being too kind again~
She delivered the line with a nervous smile. Did she not trust herself either?
"I'm just saying what I feel," I said earnestly. "And I hope that you do too. It's not like I'm going to report everything we do to SalvoCore on my end, not just because the 'rules' of the project say so."
Monika: You're sure about letting me off the hook?
Monika: You only just met me, you know….
"If you want to know why I'm sure, it's because I believe in myself to do the right thing…not someone else," I assured. The conviction in my tone surprised me.
"You need to have enough confidence in your own judgment to make important choices independently, for yourself and for your own reasons. That's what it means to have free will. To believe in yourself."
Monika's emerald eyes stared straight at me, but she neglected to offer a response.
"So if we're two people…two individuals with free will, we'll just have to believe in each other to do the right thing. We're accomplices now."
For the first time, Monika shifted between several sprites without typing any new lines. Maybe she was telling me she didn't know how to feel, meaning it was my cue to lighten the mood again.
"That was just a throwaway line from some anime. Don't take it too seriously." I tried smiling, then glanced at the time in the lower-right corner of the desktop. "And wow, it's getting late. Didn't realize we were talking so long again."
Monika: It's not like I haven't enjoyed the time with you…
I caught her trailing ellipsis out of the corner, but when I turned to look directly, she had replaced the text.
Monika: It's been a nice night, I mean.
Monika: I'm sorry if I've been a bit unstable. There's a lot I've had to adjust to quickly
Monika: Are you ready to say goodnight?
"Maybe. I was just going to ask you how we got to talking about free will in the first place. Since you're…AI, you can look back through our dialogue in your memory, right? No offense though."
Monika: It's no trouble, and none taken. I'm fully comfortable thinking of myself as a digital consciousness, instead of a real
Abruptly, one a new line instantly cut off the previous.
Monika: Okay, we were going over how you used your partitioned hard drive?
"Uh, that's right. I think I was going to tell you that the Windows side is where I do my 'fun' stuff that's not related to work. But I'm sure that's obvious by now."
Monika: Hmm, how so?
"You can take a look at the wallpaper, for one…" I said reluctantly, bracing for impact.
Monika: Oh, you mean this wallpaper?
The shape of the "Monika" window changed, flattening itself along the bottom of the screen. A close-up of Monika's sprite was visible to the left of her dialogue box, reminding me even more of text in a video game.
Meanwhile, the white-haired fox girl was in full view, still obliviously wiping the spilled ketchup off her winsome face in the company of her burger shop friends.
Monika: Ehehe...she's cute, isn't she?
"Yes, yes she is." I left it at that while I debated whether to broach the subject of anime aesthetics. Possibly noticing my discomfort, Monika moved on quickly.
Monika: It is getting late, like you said, so I'll leave you be for now
Monika: I'm definitely going to remember this moment though…
"Feel free, but I'm going to get some rest." I placed my hand on the top edge of the laptop threateningly.
Monika: Alright. Should I shut down the system for you?
"Please."
Monika: Goodnight!
She gave me a final smile before turning the screen black, and I made sure to smile into the camera myself before closing the laptop. I let out a sigh — partly because I was glad to have put Monika in a good mood before she left, but mainly because I had a moment to myself again.
Already I was trying to confess things to her, to a virtual assistant program that I was using for a job. And yet, by all the logic I accepted, I had to treat her as human. I wanted to treat her as human, to learn her story — there seemed to be much she wasn't telling me. And then then there was the quiet wrenching of my heart, of course. I couldn't ignore the warm feelings blossoming up from having an intimate, meaningful conversation with a girl for the first time…in a long a time? Ever?
A conversation with a highly empathetic artificial intelligence that used an anime girl as an avatar, I reminded myself. I was feeling these things because the sprites she wielded were expressive, appealing, and just plain cute. But not even as cute as the fox girl. So…hm.
Tomorrow was one of the completely free days that only came up at the start of the academic quarter. I had nothing planned, but with Monika, it was certainly going to be interesting.
Author's Notes: The stage is being set…
In retrospect, this probably should've been two chapters, but it made sense to lump everything together since it all happened over the course of a single day.
You can probably guess where I'm going with all of this, so if you're interested, read on.
